Survivor's Guilt
by Carrie O'Neal
Summary: post-ep 6x24 "Death and All His Friends" - the aftermath of the shooting in the season 6-finale.


**Author's Note:** set after the season 6-finale; how I think it should/could continue after the season 6 finale  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I own nothing. Grey's Anatomy and its characters belong to Shonda Rhimes, Shonaland and ABC Network.

**Survivor's Guilt**

I open my eyes and darkness surrounds me. I don't know what awaked me but suddenly it seems impossible for me to go back to sleep… it's as if the chilling cold of the night tells me, that there is a valid reason to stay awake now. Confusion sets itself in my brain and I turn around in hopes of finding sleep when I hold my beautiful wife in my arms.

She isn't there, though, as the cold, empty pillow besides me proves. Already I'm sitting upright with my eyes roaming the room for some indication of her. What they find is some light that shines through under the bathroom door.

I think it is more of an instinct than of actual thinking, when I rise from my warm, cosy bed and walk the short distance to the bathroom door. The light inside the enclosed bathroom is painful in my still half closed eyes and it takes some time for them so actually see something. When they do, I get even more confused as I see Meredith standing over the sink, splashing cold water onto her face.

"Mere.. wha'cha doin'?" The words are stumbled and slurred but she can still understand their meaning. She meets my gaze in the mirror before giving me a small smile that tells me not to worry even without words. After quickly patting her face dry of the water, she answers me. "Cristina called… well, actually Joe did. Cristina is wasted… again."

It has been happening a lot lately. At first it was only occasional as the young surgeon was fixated on making herself believe that everything was fine. That the shooting which nearly killed herself and everyone who is dear to her was just a fleeting memory of an everyday event in an uneventful life. But it didn't work and soon she became agitated and nervous. She seemed afraid and jumpy, even paranoid until she decided to still her agitation with alcohol. It made her "calm and alright", she said.  
>Well, that was two months ago and since then it had become a regular occasion of picking her up in the middle of the night, usually from Joe's bar. Most of the times Joe called Meredith because he was too afraid for Cristina and he wouldn't let her walk anywhere on her own. The other times he called Meredith because the Asian woman was way too drunk to even stand upright on her own.<p>

"I'll drive ya." I offer and am thankful for the smile the gives me in answer. I feel better with Meredith not wandering the world alone in the middle of the night. I haven't told her but ever since the shooting I am truly afraid of anything ever happening to her… to us! I remember the moment very well. The moment when Clark pointed the **gun** straight at me. It was one of the most horrifying moments of my life, alright, but what scared me the most was not knowing if Meredith was alright, especially after Clark indicated that he had already shot a bunch of people.  
>The moment I woke up after surgery, when Meredith told me with tears in her eyes, that not only died a few of our friends in the shooting, but also our unborn child, I swore to myself that I would never let her out of my sight again.<p>

Three minutes later finds us in my SUV on our way to Joe's bar. I see Meredith watching the blinking lights of the city and once again I feel happy; happy that we both walked away from this horrible incident so well; happy that we can live a nearly normal live again. Of course I feel guilty too. Because my wife's best friend hasn't been so lucky; because her relationship shattered almost immediately after Owen's recovery. His dreams are riddled with nightmares again and Cristina feels too afraid to sleep in the same building as he does. She suffered of severe sleep deprivation very quickly, wandering through the hospital with dark rings under her bloodshot eyes and too tired to stay awake during rounds. Soon after that Cristina moved into our living room.

It takes us less than 20 minutes to get to Joe's bar. While I park the car in a spot near the bar, Meredith runs inside to find her lost sister. Cristina must be really wasted today, because it takes them more than ten minutes to leave the bar. The Asian woman leans heavily on her best friend; it looks like they already stumbles a few times since Cristina's jacket is hanging loosely around her shoulders and her blacktights are cut at various places. I jump out of the car and help laying Cristina on the backseat, who has already fallen asleep. In silent understanding I put her head on Meredith's lap before getting behind the wheel again.

Every few minutes I gaze in the rear-view mirror to check on the girls. The picture makes me smile as I see Meredith slowly stroking Cristina's hair, muttering soothing words into her ear. It surprises me every time how two women, so different in nearly every aspect of their lives, can be such tight friends, tighter than most blood relatives. Once again I feel guilty for feeling relieved that Meredith and I survived the tragedy, while Cristina and Owen suffered through hell and back and finally broke under the pressure.  
>Meredith's eyes meet mine in the mirror. Her smile is loving and sad at the same time and I know that she feels the same as me. I think this is part of the reason why Meredith does so much for her friend… her survivor's guilt.<p>

When we finally arrive back home, the sun is already starting to rise on the horizon. Getting Cristina inside the house is another adventure, but instead of laying her on the couch, Meredith insists on getting her to our room. I check the time and realise that we have a surgery scheduled in two hours. Since there won't be any sleep in my near future anyway, I agree and some time later Cristina is neatly settled in our bed, covered with our blanket.  
>Meredith lays down behind her, puts her arm around Cristina's waist and waits for her to fall back to sleep while softly whispering soothing nothings into her ear.<p>

I know that nothing can part my wife from her best friend at this moment. I plant a soft kiss on her cheek before leaving the room and heading downstairs. Meredith will be ready to leave for work on time, I know, so I busy myself with making pancakes in the meantime. This way Cristina will wake up to a nice breakfast. It's the least I can do, I tell myself, as I start to accept that even if Meredith and I survived the tragedy, we still have to live with the guilt for as long as it will take Cristina to get back to life.

_The End_


End file.
